Ichabod They, with the gold to give, doled him out silver, So much was theirs who so little allowed: How all our copper had gone for his service! 1837 Rags-were they purple, his heart had been proud— Learned his great language, caught his clear accents, Shakespeare was of us, Milton was for us, Burns, Shelley, were with us, they watch from their graves! He alone breaks from the van and the freemen, -He alone sinks to the rear and the slaves! We shall march prospering,-not through his presence; One wrong more to man, one more insult to God! Best fight on well, for we taught him--strike gallantly, Then let him receive the new knowledge and wait us, Pardoned in heaven, the first by the throne! Robert Browning [1812-1889] ICHABOD [DANIEL WEBSTER] So fallen! so lost! the light withdrawn Which once he wore! The glory from his gray hairs gone Forevermore! Revile him not, the Tempter hath A snare for all; And pitying tears, not scorn and wrath, Oh, dumb be passion's stormy rage, Have lighted up and led his age, Scorn! would the angels laugh, to mark Let not the land once proud of him Insult him now, Nor brand with deeper shame his dim, But let its humbled sons, instead, From sea to lake, A long lament, as for the dead, Of all we loved and honored, naught A fallen angel's pride of thought, All else is gone; from those great eyes When faith is lost, when honor dies, Then, pay the reverence of old days Walk backward, with averted gaze, And hide the shame! John Greenleaf Whittier [1807-1892] What Mr. Robinson Thinks 1839 WHAT MR. ROBINSON THINKS GUVENER B. is a sensible man; He stays to his home an' looks arter his folks; Sez he wunt vote fer Guvener B. My! aint it terrible? Wut shall we du? We can't never choose him o' course,--thet's flat; Sez he wunt vote fer Guvener B. Gineral C. is a dreffle smart man: He's ben on all sides that give places or pelf; But consistency still wuz a part of his plan,— He's ben true to one party,-an' thet is himself;— So John P. Robinson he Sez he shall vote fer Gineral C. Gineral C. he goes in fer the war; He don't vally princerple more'n an old cud; Sez he shall vote fer Gineral C. We were gittin' on nicely up here to our village, With good old idees o' wut's right an' wut aint, We kind o' thought Christ went agin war an' pillage, An' thet eppyletts worn't the best mark of a saint; But John P. Robinson he Sez this kind o' thing's an exploded idee, The side of our country must ollers be took, An' Presidunt Polk, you know, he is our country, Robinson he Sez this is his view o' the thing to a T. Parson Wilbur he calls all these argimunts lies; Is half on it ign'ance, an' t'other half rum; But John P. Sez it aint no sech thing; an', of course, so must we. Parson Wilbur sez he never heerd in his life That th' Apostles rigged out in their swaller-tail coats, An' marched round in front of a drum an' a fife, To git some on 'em office, an' some on 'em votes; But John P. Robinson he Sez they didn't know everythin' down in Judee. Wal, it's a marcy we've gut folks to tell us The rights an' the wrongs o' these matters, I vow,- Robinson he - Sez the world'll go right, ef he hollers out Gee! THE DEBATE IN THE SENNIT SOT TO A NURSERY RHYME "HERE we stan' on the Constitution, by thunder! Ef't worn't thet it's ollers under our hoofs?" The Debate in the Sennit Sez John C. Calhoun, sez he; Right to come on this floor, No more'n the man in the moon," sez he. "The North haint no kind o' bisness with nothin', Sez Mister Foote, "I should like to shoot The holl gang, by the gret horn spoon!" scz he. 1841 "Freedom's Keystone is Slavery, thet ther's no doubt on, It's sutthin' thet's-wha'd'ye call it?-divine,An' the slaves thet we ollers make the most out on Air them north o' Mason an' Dixon's line," Sez John C. Calhoun, sez he; 'Fer all thet," sez Mangum, ""T would be better to hang 'em An' so git red on 'er soon," sez he. "The mass ough' to labor an' we lay on soffies, An' reelises our Maker's orig'nal idee," Sez John C. Calhoun, sez he;-~ "Ez thet some one's an ass, It's ez clear ez the sun is at noon," sez he. "Now don't go to say I'm the friend of oppression, "Yes," sez Davis o' Miss., "The perfection o' bliss Is in skinnin' thet same old coon," sez he. |